


Vows

by Maplesyrup



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Edwardian era, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Marriage of Convenience, Rumbelle - Freeform, Sex, Sexual Discovery, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-05-04 07:24:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14587965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maplesyrup/pseuds/Maplesyrup
Summary: Belle French marries Mr. Gold in a perfectly practical if somewhat mercenary choice to save herself from financial ruin after her father’s death.*Now a continuing series of smutty interludes!*





	1. Chapter 1

June, 1899

 

It was an easy equation: he was rich and lonely and looking to move up in the world, and she was poor and lovely and resided near the top of the ladder he wished to climb. He could save her from ruin and she could adorn his arm and life with the gaiety and beauty reserved for those secure in their futures.

Her late father’s business partner, a man twenty years her senior, stood next to her in the small church. The front pews held her few friends, who’d quickly covered their shock at her wedding announcement some weeks prior with bright smiles and happy wishes, but they glanced at each other worriedly when they thought her back was turned.

It wasn't the society wedding she’d been taught to expect, but she was glad for it. Large crowds made her nervous, and she was scared enough with all of the sudden upheaval in her life.

The Anglican church was airy and cheerful on that Tuesday morning in June. Her dress was simple, but elegant, as white as the small bouquet of orange blossoms she carried. The man at her side was clad in a somber dark grey, the white of his shirt and his rose boutonnière a stark contrast.

The priest presiding over their vows was a tall, thin man with a pleasant baritone and a warm smile. He spoke the words, blessed the couple, and introduced them to the congregation at large as Mr. and Mrs. Gold. She barely had time to blink before they’d said goodbye and were in the carriage, rolling along the cobblestone street that would lead to his large city mansion, and her new home.

Neither had mentioned a wedding breakfast or a honeymoon; she’d found the ideas strange and he’d not indicated a desire either way. It was a marriage of convenience, after all. She was to be his companion and the pretty thing he showed off to society at balls and parties, and he was to keep her accustomed to the style in which she’d grown up before her father’s habits had nearly put her on the street. He was, after all, the only one of her father’s firm who’d managed to keep his fortune from slipping through his fingers.

She absently stroked the petals of her bouquet as they rumbled along, keeping her gaze fixed out the window in the hopes that he wouldn't try and entertain conversation. He’d not kissed her at the altar; in fact he had hardly touched her save to help her into the carriage, and she felt a little offended.

She gave a quiet snort through her nose, irritated at her own contrary nature. Romantic illusions were a thing of her past; she’d made a deal to save her life and would be content. Love wasn’t practical, but a roof over your head and material comforts were.

They pulled to a juddering stop in front of a large grey house, and she noticed that the color matched his wedding garb. Was his entire life done up in such austere fashion? She hoped not, and perhaps she could see to—

She mentally brought herself up short.  _ No. _ No redecorating. No nesting. She’d accept the rooms he gave her, and settle into her new life. She didn’t need to change anything, and he hadn’t given permission for it anyway.

She really needed to quash the ridiculous, hopeful nature that kept interfering with her practical plans.

He held out a hand to assist her out of the carriage, and the hem of her dress snagged on the last step. She pitched forward and would have stumbled and fallen, if it hadn’t been for the strong arm catching her about the waist and bringing them face-to-face, closer than they’d yet been.

She blushed, searching his expression, but his face remained passive, his eyes banked. Nothing in his expression gave away any sort of feeling for her. He released her quickly, and preceded her up the stone steps. She tamped down on a measure of irritation; had she expected gallantry? She was a fool

She followed him through the door, a servant appearing and taking her bouquet and his top hat and coat before she knew what was happening. She glanced around the foyer, pleasantly surprised at the rich, warm wood coupled with the light wallpaper. The decor gave the entrance a more welcoming feeling than she had expected. She wondered if the rest of the house was finished in the same manner.

“The housekeeper will show you to your rooms. I shall see you at dinner.”

She started when he spoke. The first words he had said to her all day and they were clipped and quiet; a directive to leave her in the care of another. Their marriage might not have been a love match, but this was still her wedding day, and she hadn’t anticipated being alone with only her thoughts for company.

He gave her a perfunctory bow, and walked off in some direction deeper into the large house. She was left alone in the foyer, at the start of her new life, and her husband had all but abandoned her.

A tear tracked down her face before she realized she was crying, and then another joined it. She pressed her white-gloved fingers to her face to blot the moisture, feeling suddenly miserable to her soul.

She was half-ready to bolt out the door and find the nearest magistrate to have this entire thing annulled and take her chances elsewhere. She still had friends who loved her and would take her in, didn’t she?

Someone cleared their throat softly near her and her head jerked up to see a small, stout woman of middling years standing in front of her and looking at her with the kindest expression she’d seen since she left the church.

“If you’ll follow me, Ma’am?” The woman, obviously the housekeeper, gestured towards the large, curving staircase. 

They reached the second floor and she was directed to a large, beautiful bedroom done in an elegant, feminine style of cream and blue with an attached private day room and full bathroom. Her trunks had been brought up, and some well-meaning servant had placed her hope chest at the foot of her bed.

“The master wishes you to be comfortable here, ma’am.” The housekeeper bobbed a quick curtsey and left.

The smell of new furniture and fresh lemon-and-beeswax hung in the air, making it apparent that the rooms had been recently decorated. The idea that he’d redone a set of rooms for her should have incited gratitude, but instead she felt confused. And… obligated.

She was alone, in her wedding dress, with no idea of where her husband could be. And it was several hours until dinner if he kept by the normal schedules.

She felt the tears start again and didn’t bother to hide them, until she heard a knock at the door, turning in surprise to see that it was still open, the slight yet imposing figure of her husband filling the doorway.

She turned away from him, hurriedly blotting her face with her fingers again, not wanting him think her ungrateful.

He didn't move from the doorway until she  composed herself again and turned to invite him in. Her voice shook from nerves, even on the simple invitation, and she darted her eyes everywhere but to him.

“Are you pleased here?” 

She blinked at him, and he gestured. “With these rooms, I mean. Do they please you?”

She nodded. “Yes. They’re lovely, thank you.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. You’re my wife now; I’ll see that you only have the best.”

She ducked her head, twisting her fingers in the awkward silence. “Is—did you need something, sir?”

He smiled, the first real smile she’d seen from him in weeks, and it made her stomach flutter. “Yes, I do need something.” He took a few slow steps closer to her, and she gulped, her nerves rising to the surface and fogging her brain.

He came close enough for her to feel the light puffs of his breath against her face. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest and she worried she’d faint if he didn't do something. What she was waiting for, she didn’t know, but he couldn’t just keep standing so close.

“I’d like to kiss my bride, if she’s amenable.”

What could she do but nod? He had the right to do as he wished with her, though he’d never mentioned wanting such a thing. But surely a kiss was alright?

She gave a small dip of her chin, and he raised a hand, stroking his thumb across her cheek, sending shivers through her with the simple touch.

“You’re beautiful. I don’t believe I told you so.”

She gave the tiniest shake of her head. “No, but thank you, sir.”

“You needn’t call me that anymore, my dear. I should think my name would suffice.”

“I don’t know your first name.”

“Indeed? Hmm.” He leaned in slowly. “We should rectify that soon,” he whispered, before pressing his mouth against hers gently.

The light pressure made her head swim, and a pleasant ache started low in her belly. A tiny whimper escaped her, and she suddenly found herself gathered in his arms, pressed tightly to his body, with his hands roaming across and down her back.

He changed the angle of the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers and parting her lips with his tongue. The shock of having him in her mouth erased the pleasant tingle that had settled between her legs and sent a jolt of fear through her instead.

She began to struggle, to try and tear her mouth away, but it took a moment for him to grasp what she was doing. She was released as quickly as she was embraced, and stumbled forwards a bit. He grasped her arms to steady her.

“Forgive me, Belle. I—“ He cut himself off. “Forgive me.” He gave her another short bow and left.

She still didn’t know his first name.

 

 

 

A week of marriage passed. She saw little of him and they never touched. She went to bed each night half-expecting to finally be called to her duty, but rose each morning undisturbed by anyone but the maid assigned to wake and dress her. Wedded, but not bedded.

She would admit to a bit of loneliness but counted it among her blessings. The scale of the mansion allowed her relative privacy and her discovery of secreted nooks provided even greater places to hide. 

In her former life she would have considered herself brave and outgoing, but in her bargain to save herself from ruin she worried she had gambled more than she realized and lost.

There were no visits from her friends during the first week, of course. It was expected that the new couple was too busy getting to know one another and starting the work of producing an heir to entertain company.  She choked back a bitter laugh at how shocked they would be to see her so resolutely unoccupied. She supposed the daily visits would start soon and she would have to put on a brave face for the people from her former life.

It wasn’t unusual for a marriage to be loveless in their society. It was quite common, in fact, and preferred by older society matrons.  ‘Animal spirits’ were never a good enough reason to bind oneself to another for life. So she walked the halls of her new home, learning each corner and avoiding the servants until the day she found the library.

For all of her father’s financially ruinous tendencies, he always made sure to supply her with books. They were sold to pay debts upon his death and she mourned the loss, but a few had made it into her hope chest and she kept them there for safekeeping. Her discovery of the mansion’s large library was the first time she caught a glimpse of her former self since her father passed and she had been married in the course of only a few weeks.

She found a servant passing in the hall and asked for tea to be brought to the library before retreating back into this new sanctuary. Her husband owned the same wide variety of poems she had deeply cherished as a girl, when her mind was free to wander down paths of romance and hope and entertain childish despair at the quarrels of imaginary lovers. Despite the fear of pain at lost dreams, or perhaps because of them, she pulled her favorite slim volume of Poe’s work from the shelf and tucked herself onto the window seat that overlooked his,  _ their _ , large backyard garden.

She found her favorite poem of his,  _ A Dream _ , and lost track of time. When the door opened, she gestured absently to the table nearest her seat and told the maid the tea could go there. A shadow crossed the book in her lap and she looked up into the unexpected visage of her husband. He stood silently looking at her for a moment, an odd expression in his eyes.   


“There you are.”

She gulped and dropped her gaze back to the book. Perhaps he didn’t approve of women reading. Or perhaps he didn’t approve of her using this room. Mayhap he was even angry with her for hiding all week except for their silent dinners shared in the over-large dining room.

She told herself it didn’t matter; if he had wanted something of her he knew where she slept. Her ire rose at having her sanctuary disturbed.

“Did you need something, sir?” She looked up again and saw a small frown crease his brows. Some inner feeling compelled her to reach out and smooth it with her hand, but she managed to keep herself in check and stay still.

“I…have wondered as of late how you have been occupying yourself. It is good to know you enjoy the library.”

She nodded politely at him.

“May I sit with you?”

She hesitated before gesturing to the spare expanse of cushion before her. Getting back to her reading seemed impossible, and she closed the volume and clutched it in her lap.

She waited for him to speak first, aware of a creeping embarrassment at the long silence that stretched between them. He drummed his fingers lightly against his thigh and gazed out the window.

“The day is very fair. The sunshine will do wonders for our garden.”

She offered a noncommittal hum in return, her eyes going to his profile and she made a brief study of him while his attention was turned elsewhere.

He was not at all unattractive, though she had given little thought to his looks before. She had been too preoccupied with practicality and relief to give thought to what her betrothed looked like. His nose was strong and matched his chin and he bore no age spots or odd marks on his skin. The shape of his mouth was thin but not cruel; she never saw him snarl or grimace. He was tanned, his skin the healthy color of the outdoors and she found herself wondering how much time he spent in their garden, toiling among the dirt and insects to produce small miracles of temporary beauty. 

An image came unbidden to her mind of him in naught but trousers and shirtsleeves, the heat of the sun making his shirt cling tightly to his back with sweat, and she felt her cheeks grow warm at the improper thought.

“What has you blushing so?”

She jerked her attention back to him. “Nothing, sir.” She clutched the book in her hands like an anchor to sanity. “Merely…a recollection of the poem I was reading.”

“Oh?” He reached over and took the book from her grasp and she let him, watching as he flicked through the pages, looking for the poem she had been reading when he found her. She watched his long fingers play gently across the pages as he searched, and felt an odd stirring in her belly, much like when he had first kissed her on the afternoon of their wedding day.

She brought a surreptitious hand to her middle, trying to press the tingle away as the memories of what came after chased away the more pleasant thought.

He stopped at the poem, his eyebrows raising as he saw which she had chosen to read.

“What brings you to this poem, Belle?”

She twisted her hands tightly in her lap as if to keep her answer from springing out. She grew tired of his questioning her as if she were a child. “I…enjoy Poe’s work, sir, and take solace in familiar verse.”

“Solace. I see. And is your solace in this poem that of the brevity of life he describes so well?”

She lifted her eyes to his, unwilling to voice the truth gathering behind her ribs, echoing around her chest with each beat of her heart. He could see through her, she feared, as he nodded in her silence. His face took on a resigned cast, his eyes briefly sad before dropping back to the book. He placed the slim volume back into her hands and stood.

“You are young.” He did not look at her as he spoke but rather out the window to the garden once more. “And life is infinitely longer and yet shorter than you can possibly imagine.” He turned to her and she received yet another small, sad bow from him before he made his departure.

As he walked towards the door, a voice inside her begged her to call out to him but she wasn’t brave enough. He slipped through the door and shut it gently behind him.

The voice dimmed to a disquieting hum that centered around her heart, joining her fears in a swirling mass of uncertainty. It felt as if a possible bridge between them was forever barred to her now. The feeling followed her into the night.

 

 

 

Her friends had begun to call, hesitantly at first and then in full force, bringing chatter and light into the large, quiet house. The young matrons asked sly questions about her evenings, and Belle demurred with a blush and a topic change. She found her friends were quite happy to chatter instead about drapes and furniture and her plans for the mansion’s improvement. She had no plans in truth, but they elected to substitute their own opinions and were content.

Her husband walked in by chance during one of these visits and was polite, if slightly aloof. She already knew that she never need fear for his social graces, yet his presence caused an unfamiliar awareness in her body, a peculiar itching under her skin. The feelings had come after their halting, sad tête-à-tête in the library a week ago. The onslaught of emotion confused her and was therefore unwelcome. She wished he would quit the room.

He made brief conversation with her friends while she sipped her tea, inquiring as to their health and the health of their families before leaving with a bow and his best wishes for their good day. She’d kept her eyes down during his presence until her friends’ excited gasps and whispers grabbed her attention once more.

Her husband was pronounced a very agreeable man, indeed, and a peculiar sort of attractive that likely owed to his Scottish heritage. Not too tall or too short and with a pleasant, warm sort of air about him. She nodded at the appropriate times and thanked them politely for their kind remarks but when their conversation turned more scandalous, she found herself confused and frowned.

“The way he looks at you is positively  _ indecent _ , Belle!”

She set down her teacup. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You sly thing, you told us this marriage was purely economical, and now we see you for the fibber you are!”

She shook her head. It wouldn’t do to have them spreading this gossip like wildfire amongst their other friends. “No, indeed, you are mistaken.”

“Initially, perhaps, but the dear Lord preserve me if that man  _ doesn’t _ look at you as if you were a favorite treat ready to be devoured!”

The women laughed, but she stayed quiet, the awareness under her skin rushing in and setting her blood afire,   making her uncomfortable and distracted. She set her teacup down on the table with more force than necessary. Her friends were startled out of their laughter and looked at her in surprise.

She rose, plastering a polite smile on her face. She offered her sincerest apology for losing track of the time but she simply had to meet with Cook to prepare the night’s menu. Her friends stood, accepting the flimsy excuse with grace, and made their way to the door. Once they were safely ensconced in their own carriages, she gave her ire its lead and stalked off to find her husband.

She located him in his office, the open door affording her a view of him   standing inside with a file in his hands, pince-nez spectacles perched on his long nose as he perused it. That same small frown as he’d had in the library creased his forehead and she stopped short, her temper nearly extinguished at the picture he made. Her heart gave a peculiar thump upon seeing him. He noticed her in the doorway then and smiled, the gentle curve of it pulling her in and nearly making her forget why she’d sought him out.

“Hello, Belle.”

She took a few steps into the room, mesmerized by his gaze on her, and stopped when she came to his desk. She swallowed down sudden nerves and looked at him.

“Why…why did you act like that to my friends?”

He frowned, removing his spectacles and setting the file down on his desk. 

“Like what? I recall being polite to guests in my home; did I cause some offense instead?”

She shook her head. “Not to them, no.”

“Then would you enlighten me as to the issue?” He stood still as he waited for her response, his only movement the slight cocking of his head to one side and his furrowed brow. She could not for the life of her understand why that frown of his had become so appealing. The strange itch returned.

“You just…you’ve given them all the wrong impression and it’s unfair, that’s all.”

He moved then, skirting the desk to lean against the front of it, his hands laced in front of him.

“The wrong impression? What impression would you have me make on them, Belle?”

She let a sigh burst from her lungs. “Stop calling me by my name. I don’t know yours and it’s not fair that you use mine.”

She watched his expression shutter as he gazed at her, the frown smoothed into something like understanding on his placid face. What he could possibly understand about her discomfiture she couldn’t fathom, but his calm disinterest made her all the more irritated. She was unmoored, uncertain in this lair of his, without a path to follow.

“Alright. What seems to be troubling you, truly, Mrs. Gold?”

She took a shuddering breath as he said her formal name, the first time she’d heard herself addressed as such since their wedding day. Could it really have been just two weeks prior? It felt like ages, the slow simmering that had taken some strange root under her skin refusing to be  banished.She was tired of it, the tension, the frustration just at the edge of her mind that popped to the forefront whenever she saw him. 

It was maddening and made no sense to her. She was indifferent to him; he was a means to an end.  Yet his utter lack of interest since their one and only kiss had offended some silly, vain part of her and she was furious for it.

“They’ve all gone away thinking…well, thinking  things are different than they really are.”

“I see.” 

She shook her head. “No, sir, I don’t think you do.”

“Then, as I have already asked, please enlighten me.”

She huffed, unable to find the right words to say how she felt without blurting them out baldly.

“I find in times such as these, it’s better to be candid and let the words sort themselves out as they may.” His gentle smile took on a more chilling quality. She felt small and childlike once more and scowled at him for reading her discomfiture.

“You’ve given them all the impression that we are happily suited here and it’s an embarrassing lie.” 

Now that the words were out, she couldn’t prevent herself from continuing. 

“It’s become obvious you want little to do with me. I know our initial arrangement was just that, trading security for social elevation, but to make my friends believe this is some sort of…of passionate match is indecent and vulgar when we both know the truth.” 

She watched his face darken into some unreadable but dangerous emotion as she spoke, but the words flowed from her like water from a broken dam. He moved away from the desk, a few steps closer to her, but she refused to back away.

“I don’t presume to tell you how to run your life or affairs, sir. All I ask is that you don’t feign something that does not exist. It’s cruel and…”

She trailed off as he drew close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath. A frisson of panic laced down her spine, warning her to run, but she was rooted to the spot.

“Callum,” he breathed.

“What?”

“My name is Callum. If you’re going to shout at me, at least refrain from calling me ‘sir’.”

“I wasn’t shouting; ladies don’t—“

He cut her off with a lush, open-mouthed kiss, the press of his lips igniting the peculiar feeling that had been wriggling under her skin for weeks. This time, however, when she felt the slide of his tongue into her mouth, it turned her knees weak with pleasure and she moaned, clutching at him to prevent herself from falling.

She was never in any danger, his arms locking about her like steel bands and keeping her upright and pressed flush against him. He walked them both towards the nearest wall, trapping her body between his and the wood paneling at her back. She gasped, dislodging her mouth from his at the feeling of intimate pressure between her thighs where his hips pressed. All the bubbling sensations that had plagued her for weeks swirled and centered at the apex of her thighs, making her feel swollen and feverish.

He captured her mouth again as he bucked his hips gently in a maddening rhythm. Her thoughts scattered to the wind, but her body seemed to understand the primal request of the man pressed against her and she tried to push back, seeking more of that pulsing, teasing pleasure. She felt a delicious hardness nudge her intimately and knew if he asked, she would let him take her for the first time right against this wall.

He tore his mouth from hers with a ragged gasp, pressing kisses to the side of her face, his body stilling, and she whined in protest, grabbing and pulling at him to keep the torturous pleasure upon her.

“No, Belle, wait.” His harsh whisper in her ear and the sweep of his hand down her back did nothing to calm her, only added greatly to her frustration. “Sweetheart, wait.”

She whined again, bucking her hips against his like he’d done to her and he gasped.

“ _ Jesus _ . Don’t do that.” He pinned her to the wall fully, trapping her body to keep her from moving, forcing her to slow down and think.

The arousing haze began to lift after a few moments and she squirmed against him in embarrassment. 

“I…please, I’m so—“

He nipped her neck with his teeth and she squeaked, her apology cut off at the legs. 

“You’re what? Sorry? Don’t you dare say that to me, not right now.” He drew a shuddering breath. “I’m not consummating our marriage against a wall, Belle.”

_ Oh.  _ So that’s what this was then. This peculiar desire would lead to consummation of their marriage.

“Of…of course, it’s supposed to be in a bed, isn’t it?” Her cheeks felt inflamed with a strange fever, and she wondered if desire was always this  _ warm _ .

He chuckled into her hair and she fought down offense at being laughed at. “There are many places this can occur, but the first time should be in a bed, yes.”

She felt a small spark of her former bravery come back to her but couldn’t face him to ask the question foremost in her mind. She ducked her head against his neck instead.

“Then, will you take me to bed…Callum?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's exactly what you think it's going to be about.

How he had gotten them up to his bedchamber without her succumbing to heated embarrassment, she would never know, just as she was uncertain how he managed to divest them both of their clothing so quickly.

The spark of her bravery had long flown back to wherever it had been hiding the past several weeks and she trembled with an unsettling mixture of uncertainty and need. 

He reached for her slowly, nude as the day he’d been born, and she averted her eyes shyly, uncertain of where to look. Her hands splayed across her naked body, trying to hide the more vulnerable, private parts of her anatomy and he smiled at her, his mouth taking on the same gentle curve as before. He stroked his hands from her shoulders down to her elbows several times, letting her get used to his touch on her bare skin.

“You are so lovely, Belle.” He drew a hand across the arm covering her breasts. “Let me see more of you, please.”

She let him pull her arm down, certain her blush had spread the length of her body if the heat of her skin was any indication. He ran the back of his hand over her breast and she gasped at the simple touch. He slid his arm around her, keeping his hand at her breast, and brought her body against him. 

“Do you like this?” he whispered as he rubbed his knuckles back and forth across her skin.

“Yes.” Her answer was breathless and she wondered how such a simple touch could set her aflame. He turned his hand over to cup her breast, his long fingers encompassing the small mound and her nipple pebbling in his palm. She gasped, her eyelids fluttering closed and her head falling back slightly. He moved his fingers to roll her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching lightly, and she mewled, lightning streaking to the warm, pulsing spot between her legs.

“Callum…I—oh!” She gasped as he worked her skillfully, her arms clutching his back as much as she was able in their current position.

“Yes, sweetheart. What do you need?” He nuzzled her cheek as he played with her, letting out faint growls of his own in answer to her gasping moans.

“I…I don’t know. Just  _ more _ .”

He pulled his hand from her breast and she nearly sobbed with the loss until she felt him scoop her up into his arms and carry her over to his bed. He deposited her gently on the counterpane and joined her, crawling to lay alongside her and stroke his hand across her breasts as she gazed shyly up at him.

“You’re welcome to touch me, too, sweetheart.”

“Am I?” She smiled at him. “Where should I touch first?”

He grinned at her. “Wherever you please. I would that you’d make your own choices this first time.”

She turned on her side, facing him, and propped her head on one hand while the other fluttered above the skin of his shoulder before settling. She breathed out in wonderment at the feel of his hot skin beneath her palm and coasted her hand down to his chest, tangling her fingers in the soft mat of hair covering his pectorals. He laid a hand on her bare hip but she was too fascinated by his body to jump at the unfamiliar touch. Instead, his light perusal of her own skin heightened her pleasure in his and her eyes followed her hand as it trailed lower on his body.

She looked up at him. “Does this please you?” His face was as close to a grimace as she’d ever seen and she was struck with sudden worry, drawing her hand away.

“Does that hurt?” She frowned, moving her body closer to his and bringing her hand up to cup his cheek. “I won’t touch you there if it hurts.”

He let out a harsh laugh. “No, Belle, it was quite the opposite.”

“Oh.” 

Carefully, she brought her hand back down to pick up where she had left off, her eyes once again following her progress. When she reached the base of his hips and saw how large and thick he was in front of her, that same small frisson of fear returned.

This was the part she knew had to go inside her and she was not at all certain it was going to fit. She said as much and grew offended when he laughed, rolling to his back and throwing an arm over his eyes. She sat up, embarrassed, and drew her knees up and away from him, wanting to curl into a ball and roll away. She felt the bed dip when he sat up and pouted when he wrapped his arms around her.

“It’s not fair to laugh at me. I’m not supposed to know anything about…about this.” She kept her head ducked, her voice muffled into her lap as she spoke.

“Oh, my beautiful wife, I wasn’t laughing at you. Truly, I wasn’t.”

She looked up with a scowl. “Then what was so funny?”

His answering smile was so full of tenderness that her heart stuttered in her chest. He cupped her cheek in his large hand.

“Someday very soon you will look back on this conversation and understand why it’s so amusing.”  He dropped a kiss in her hair and sprawled on his back once more. “Come, dearest. You are welcome to peruse at your leisure. I promise no more laughing.”

She turned to face him, resting on her knees near his chest and he wrapped an arm around her waist, his hand coming to rest on her buttocks and giving them a light pat. She twisted to look down his body, marveling at the size of him once more but deciding to trust him. She’d know soon enough.

A bit of bravery came back to her as she gazed shyly at the long expanse of male beside her. Enough to make her raise her hand and hover it over his hips, where his flesh seemed to twitch eagerly towards her fingers.

She slowly brought her hand down, brushing a few fingertips against skin that felt like velvet encasing steel. He hissed and her eyes moved to his face, his eyes closed and a look of desperation crossing his features. He had told her it didn’t hurt to be touched there, so she could only assume it was a hiss of pleasure. 

A thrill went through her body. Her touch had made him react that way. She wrapped her fingers around him fully, giving him an experimental squeeze and was rewarded with a groan.

She wanted to do more, to make him feel more, but hadn’t the first idea how to proceed. So she sat and looked her fill at him, waiting for inspiration to strike. She stroked her thumb up and over the end of him, gathering a small bead of moisture that had formed there. It was delightfully slippery and she spread it over him, thrilling once more at the noises he made.

His hips jutted upward, sliding him through the tight circle of her fingers and he moaned, low and deep. Belle was fascinated, arousal and curiosity a heady mixture that brought forth all manner of questions.

Forgetting her own nakedness and shyness, she straddled him instinctively, one hand splayed on his stomach for balance while the other still held him. She slid her hand down his length, keeping her fingers tight and watched as he opened his eyes and fixed her with a pleading stare.

“Belle… _ please _ .”

She felt so wicked, so  _ naughty _ , reducing a paragon of the financial world to a quivering, begging mass underneath her. Her old governess would have shamed to see her astride him like this, tossing propriety to the wind as if her husband beneath her was merely her plaything.

Her eyes dropped to her hand as it slowly pumped up and down his length, his moans growing more desperate and agitated.

“I won’t last, sweetheart,” he gasped. She looked up at him, saw the muscles jump in his jaw as he clenched his teeth against whatever he was feeling. She was momentarily confused as to what he meant but then he was sliding his hand between her thighs where they hugged his. He dragged his fingers across her mound, parting her folds and she had barely a moment to register shock at the most intimate touch of her life before he was sliding a thick finger easily inside her body.

The sensation of it was nearly too much and she gasped, releasing him and splaying both her hands low on his chest in a desperate attempt to stay upright. Her head swam as he played with her, whimpers and gasps spilling out of her as he moved his hand.

Her entire world focused on the play of his fingers, her body seemingly understanding what was required though her mind drew blanks. She gave over, let her body take control as she pressed down against his hand, a shiver racing up her spine as she heard his approving growl.

“Yes, Belle. Take what you need from me, sweetheart.”

She bit her lip hard, trying to stifle the moan that wanted to erupt. He brought his other hand to her mouth, his thumb tugging her lower lip free.

“Don’t hide. Let me hear you.”

His hand slid to the side of her neck, anchoring her, and she rode his hand shamelessly, pressing herself against him and relishing the wet sounds his hand made as it worked against her slick flesh. 

Something incredible was just out of her reach, a few scant inches away and she chased it harder than she’d ever chased anything before. It promised a glorious madness if she could just get it in her grip but it kept eluding her. She whined her frustration and Callum seemed to understand, for he twisted his wrist ever so slightly, pressing the heel of his hand higher up against her, setting her ablaze.

The small spark of bravery that started with her grasping him in her hand had led to this riotous inferno chasing through her body, scorching a black line in the ground between the girl she had been and the woman she was becoming, all at the touch of his hand.

She shouted her pleasure, her fingers curling into his flesh as she shuddered and moaned through the onslaught, her body bearing down to wring every last ounce of bliss she could from the experience.

Too soon, the feeling faded. She slumped over him, gasping for breath and unclenching her fingers. She should have been mortified to see the half-moon marks from her fingernails in the skin of his chest but she wasn't. They had been made in pursuit of the wildest, most reckless pleasure she had ever known and she had marked him as surely as he'd marked her. She was proud of them.

His hand around her neck moved to brush her hair out of her face and he gazed at her with such deep emotion and longing that she wanted to hide. But she stayed, enjoying the feeling of his other hand where it still lay between her thighs, stroking her gently, every so often eliciting a little jump and whimper as he crossed an overly-sensitive spot.

He removed his hand, pulling her down slowly for a soft, lingering kiss with the other. His slippery fingers splayed low on her back, making her shiver from the heat that clung to them. Her heat, still on his skin and now on hers.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded, her nose brushing his, and sighed deeply, snuggling against his chest. His heart beat strong and fast in her ear but it soothed her.

“Would you like to sleep?” He stroked her hair back, his thumb brushing across her cheek. She stilled, remembering there was more to come. She didn’t feel frightened anymore, however. She felt…free.

Lifting herself up to look at him, she shook her head, giving him what she hoped was a siren’s smile.

“No, Callum. I do not want to sleep.”

She pushed herself back up astride him once more, glancing at the hard length of him, no less eager despite how long he’d been waiting.

“And neither do you,” she said boldly, shocked at herself. She brought a hand back to him, squeezing again, and he growled low in his throat.

“Do you want my cock, then, Belle?”

The new word spoken in his thickened brogue sent a bolt of sensation through her. Her cheeks burned but she refused to give in to embarrassment. They were gloriously nude, in their marriage bed, and she had just experienced the most wondrous pleasure of her life at the hands of her  _ husband _ . Now was not the time to be missish.

“Yes, Callum.” She pumped him slowly, experimentally.

“My hard cock in that sweet cunny of yours, hmm?”

His filthy words sent her to a place no proper lady should ever be, but she didn’t care. Words failed her so she nodded, biting her lip again. He grinned, dark and nearly menacing.

“Then take me, my love.”

She had a moment of unsurety, but he reached down to her, grasping her hips and guiding her to hover over him, her hands on his chest for balance. Her thighs splayed wide and the tip of his  _ cock _ settled near her entrance, brushing against her in tantalizing little washes of heat. His skin was nearly so warm as to burn her and she shivered deliciously at the idea of all of that heat inside her, warming her from the inside out.

He wrapped a hand around his base, holding himself still and the sight of him grasping his cock was almost unbearably erotic, a little moan of want escaping her. She sank down slowly, the tip of him fitting quite snug inside her. She felt a moment of relief when there was no pain, as she had been led to believe there would be and a great deal of it. She grew bold and tried to sink down onto the rest of him but her body objected to the intrusion and she gasped. Callum’s hand tightened around her hip and the other still holding the base of his cock stayed there, preventing her from progressing further.

“Easy, sweetheart. There’s no need to rush.”

She nodded, the slight sting of tears frustrating her. She took a shaky breath and let it out slowly, her body accepting her silent wish to continue as she relaxed around him enough for the rest of him to slide inside her.

The sting of being newly breached wore off after a few moments, leaving behind the curious and new sensation of being incredibly filled. His heat was exactly as she’d hoped, near to scalding in the most perfect, arousing way. She began to grow used to the sensation and rocked forward a bit, hoping to feel it again. The slight movement sent a jolt through her and she yelped in pleasured surprise, her eyes flying to Callum’s face.

He sent her a somewhat pained grin, his hands grasping her hips and gently urging her to find a pace that pleased her. She began to rock back and forth, the feeling of him moving thick and hard inside her driving her up towards the same momentary madness of before and she chased it far more easily this time, now that she knew what was coming.

He slipped a hand between them, pressing against the sensitive spot at the top of her folds and rolling the pad of his thumb around it. Each flick across her slickened flesh was a wickedly delightful counterpoint to the pleasure of him inside her and she rode him hard, her personal stud, made for her pleasure only.

The ridiculous thought made her smile and she held it as she came apart above him, the ecstasy of before transformed into something deeper and more soul-searing with the addition of his body joined to hers. He grasped her hips, pumping hard upwards into her, shouting her name as he raced toward his own bliss. He threw his head back, the corded muscles of his neck standing out in relief as he emptied himself inside her with a stuttering moan, a new wash of heat bathing her as he spent.

She laughed as she came down from her peak, the joy of her first coupling leaving her raw and unguarded and mirthful. He was limp beneath her and they both gasped as if they had run the city square ten times over. She lowered herself down gently, carefully sliding off of him to cuddle next to him. He shifted, gathering her against his side and tucking her head to his chest, one arm about her keeping her tight to him, the other pillowing his head.

They lay in pleased silence for a time, Belle running her fingers in idle patterns on Callum’s chest, with him doing the same on the skin of her arm.

“Callum,” she murmured quietly, a sudden thought occurring to her.

“Yes?”

“Next time, I should like to try that against a wall.”

He was silent for a moment before erupting into laughter and pulling her up and over him, kissing her soundly.

“Anything you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, was it worth the wait? ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Autumnstar and Nerdrumple for your brilliant help and friendship

Belle awoke to a peculiar soreness in her thighs and between her legs. Sunlight streamed through the curtains of Callum’s bedchamber, falling across the rumpled covers where she lay. She turned, expecting to see him next to her, but found herself alone save for a note on his pillow. A snipped red rose lay atop the cream paper, its petals gently unfurling in a shaft of morning light.

A smile curved Belle’s mouth as she reached for the rose and what was presumably a note from her husband. She brought the rose up to sniff as she opened the fold, Callum’s slanted penmanship crossing the page.

_ Belle -  _

_ Forgive my absence, dearest. I have meetings downtown that will take most of the morning.   
_ _ I shall return as soon as I’m able. _

_ Yours,  
_ _ Callum _

The written endearment made her blush, as did the remembrance of their activities the previous evening. She realized their congress of the night before was the cause of the unfamiliar ache at her core. The image of Callum underneath her as she rode him with abandon and lost her faculties to the pleasure of his body came back to her. Her body throbbed in response and she covered her face with a hand, shamed to have such wicked thoughts in the stark light of day. 

It was one thing to give oneself over to one’s husband in the secret dark of night, but it was surely sinful to have such wants outside of it. The days were for visits and errands and keeping the household.

But as the sunlight spilled over the dark covers of Callum’s bed and warmed Belle where it touched her naked skin, thoughts of propriety were subsumed by far more intriguing thoughts. She wondered what he would look like covered in nothing but the warm rays of the sun as they spilled lovingly over him. Would he look like some ancient god basking in the glory of nature? Would he shame to be so open, so free? Or would he pull her atop him like before, urging her to take all she needed from him as he worshipped her like a temple supplicant at the altar of his goddess?

Her heated musings began to agitate her in the same way Callum did, sending heat down between her legs, and she groaned in understanding.  _ Desire _ . Again, and far too distracting. She had things to accomplish this day, staff to speak with and such. It was unseemly to loll about in bed with naughty thoughts of one’s husband rolling through one’s mind.

She pushed the covers back, ignoring her nakedness, and got out of bed. Her sore legs protested and she hissed at the pull of muscles, willing them to relax as they became used to normal movement after the unusual escapades that had taxed them so.

One of her silk dressing gowns had been laid at the foot of the bed and she smiled, touched at Callum’s thoughtfulness. Waking nude was a brand new experience, the feeling almost overwhelmingly hedonistic, and she was grateful for the covering as she rang the bell for the maid.

* * *

Her morning moved swiftly enough, filled with speaking to the cook about menus for the coming week and approving the housekeeper’s recent hire of a pair of downstairs maids. Throughout the domestic duties, the soreness of her body thankfully lifted but she was left with an odd curiosity. One that encompassed the human body and its various parts. 

Particularly, how they worked. 

And if her fascination centered around the intricacies of  _ her  _ body--and perhaps Callum’s--well, who was to say that the search for such knowledge as would satisfy her curiosity was wrong? It was purely for the sake of scientific discovery, and not prurient in the least.

Or so she told herself.

Belle stole away to the library after dismissing the housekeeper and maids, closing the door quietly behind her. She hurried to the shelf where Callum’s impressive collection of medical books lay nestled in a neat row. As a near-peerless commander of the business world of their city, his varied collection of books made a strange sort of sense to her. One couldn’t command the world without understanding how its various parts worked.

Similar to the kind of knowledge she was after.

She scanned the spines, running her fingers along them until she located one that looked promising. The title read  _ Gray’s Anatomy, Fourteenth Edition _ and she tugged it free, flipping the covers and first pages open to the table of contents and running down. She located the page number for full-body illustrations and hurriedly flipped through until she came to an image of a nude figure. Bisected to show the internal organs and their placement, it had helpful notes printed here and there that gave anatomical names for the parts of the body.

She scanned the image, her attention focusing on the lower half of the figure’s body and she turned a few more pages, hoping for an image with greater detail. Her eyes alighted on a prominently-featured cross-section of the female pelvis, labels everywhere and on everything. Her eyes widened at her discovery.

“What has you so fascinated, Belle?”

She gasped and whirled around, tucking the book behind her. Callum was there, his hands behind his back as he regarded her with an amused smile.

“Callum!” 

He’d caught her. Her cheeks heated immediately and she had no doubt he could see right into her mind, to all her curious, debauched thoughts, for her thirst for this particular knowledge wasn’t innocent in the least.

“Nothing,” she lied. “I was merely curious about something.”

“Oh?” 

He started towards her, reaching an arm around her and lifting the book from her hands, the tome slipping easily away from her suddenly nerveless fingers. She gulped, certain he would reprimand her for her filthy wonderings. He glanced at the title, then flicked his eyes up to hers, an eyebrow arching before returning his gaze to the book. He opened it slowly, flipping through the pages. 

Callum seemed to possess an uncanny ability to find the exact thing she was looking at when he’d startled her.

“My, my.”

Callum ran a finger over the illustration and she was certain she would die from embarrassment. He turned the page, tsking as he did so.

“Did you see what was on the next page, Belle?”

She shook her head.

“No. Callum, I--”

“Too bad, for I’m sure that agile mind of yours would have made quick work of this.”

He held the book up, showing her another cross-section, this time of a man’s pelvis. She should have looked away from the impropriety of it but it fascinated her. The same organ Callum possessed was drawn in great detail on the page but lay limp, almost tired-looking. So different from what she had seen last night. He’d been alive, throbbing and thick in her hand and impossibly hard and hot as she’d ridden him to oblivion.

“Oh.” 

He snapped the book shut, startling her, and placed it on a nearby table. Her momentary fascination turned to worry as he took more steps towards her, backing her against the wall of books.

“My curious little wife. What exactly is it you wanted to learn, hmm?”

She shook her head.

“Nothing. Callum, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t--”

“Shouldn’t what? Try to learn more about your body, or mine?”

She bit her lip and nodded, wanting the floor to open up and swallow her whole. She couldn’t look at his face, instead focusing on his necktie, the deep blue fabric standing out in stark contrast to the crisp white of his shirt and dark grey of his jacket.  _ Could _ one expire from mortification?

“Oh, I disagree, Belle.”

His gravelly murmur brought her eyes to his face and she frowned in confusion.

“You’re not going to punish me?”

He chuckled, low and dark.

“Punish you? For curiosity?”

He slid a hand down the front of her skirts and began slowly inching them up, the cool air of the library brushing her legs as they were exposed. Her heart began to race and she took a shuddering breath in. 

Callum stilled, fabric bunched in his hand. A little frown of worry creased his forehead as he gazed at her. She frowned back for a moment before understanding dawned and a tenderness bloomed in her chest. She smiled, tremulous but honest, and caught his nearly imperceptible sigh of relief before his face turned smug once more.

“What kind of a husband would I be to reprimand such a delightful quest for knowledge?”

He pulled her skirts back up, high enough to slip his hand between her legs. His fingers pressed against her, hot through the fabric of her drawers and she whimpered as he pressed closer to her.

“Why not let me teach you, dearest?” His murmur tickled her ear, sending a delicious shiver through her body. He felt it and smirked at her, working his hand inside the slit of her drawers to cup her intimately. She startled at the feel of him, her memories of the sensations he’d given her coming back in a rush.

“Do you,” she stuttered, trying to speak around the teasing pressure, “do you know the right words?”

“Oh, yes.”

He petted her gently, pressing upward against her plump flesh.

“To start, this lovely, soft mound in my hand? It’s your vulva and holds all manner of delicious secrets.”

He twitched his middle two fingers, releasing some of the wetness that had pooled between her thighs. Her hands found purchase around the edge of a low bookshelf and she gripped it, trying not to go mad as he played with her.

“And this? Your exquisite wetness? Perfectly normal arousal fluid that shows me how much you want me.”

She whimpered as he swirled a finger through her then gently parted her folds.

“Your outer labia, that protect this sweet place when we’re not playing.” He moved his fingers. “And your inner that surround my cock so beautifully when I’m deep inside you.”

She moaned as he spoke, nearly missing his words, but the wonderfully debauched phrases sank into her consciousness the way she was desperate for him to sink into her body. 

He slid his thumb up, brushing across the same sensitive spot that he’d found the previous night and she gave a small yelp of pleasure, her body arching towards him.

“And, oh, my sweetest darling, this little pearl is your clitoris.” He nuzzled her ear as he spoke. “This is what made you come so beautifully for me last night.”

He pressed the pad of his thumb gently to her clitoris, rotating it in a small circle and her knees nearly buckled. She released the bookshelf to grasp his shoulders, desperate to stay upright but he murmured soothingly to her, encouraging her to hold as tight as she needed to, that he wouldn’t let her fall.

He slipped his fingers down toward the same place his cock had been. Anticipation had her toes curling in her shoes as he pressed just the tip of his middle finger inside her.

“This, my angel, is your vagina. Made just for my cock. A channel so warm, sweet, and tight I could expire from the pleasure it brings me. That  _ you _ bring me.”

He slid the remainder of his finger inside her and her inner muscles clenched. His words, so clinical yet filthy at the same time made her burn with a wicked mix of shame and desire. To be so clothed with Callum touching her so intimately made her head swim.

He began a slow thrust, hitting a spot inside her that made her hips jerk forward without her conscious urging. She moaned pleadingly, gasping as he slid a second finger inside her to pluck at the hidden spot he found while his thumb pressed against her clitoris in a rhythm that threatened to drive her insane. 

“And that peak of pleasure you reached last night is called an orgasm.” 

Her entire world focused to the feel of his hands and his rasping voice in her ear and she was so close, so very close to the same pleasure he’d brought her the night before.

“You’re going to orgasm again, Belle. Right here in my hand. And I’m going to suck you off my fingers and then take you to bed and fill you with my cock over and over until we’re  _ both _ spent.”

She gripped his jacket hard enough to tear it, clinging for dear life as his hand worked her hard, her slick flesh welcoming him, worshipping him as he did her. The pleasure coalesced into a bright, burning shock, a shout erupting from her throat as she came just as he’d said. 

He coaxed her through it, whispering endearments in her ear as she shuddered and spasmed around him, gentling his thrusting when she began to come down, her heart slamming against her chest and her lungs greedily drawing in air. He slowly pulled his fingers out of her and she relished their wet slide.   
  
Belle watched him raise his fingers to his mouth and insert them deeply, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked her wetness off the digits. He moaned, his eyes closing and a nearly pained expression crossing his face. She whimpered, her body responding to the erotic sight. His eyes shot open, pinning her with his intense stare as he slid his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop.

Their eyes remained locked as he dropped his hand to her waist, his labored breathing matching hers. She broke first, her eyes dropping to his mouth. That same curious thread wound through her once more and she pressed her lips to his on an impulsive, open-mouthed kiss, much like he’d given her in his office.

He groaned, pulling her against him and plundering her mouth with his tongue. She played back, catching a strange salty-sweet flavor that must have been from when he sucked her off his fingers. Her channel clenched at the idea, her body begging for the rest of his wicked promise and she moaned into his mouth.

He tore his mouth from hers and she followed after him, wanting more. He chuckled breathlessly, holding her and nuzzling the side of her face while she clung to him. He lowered his mouth to her ear, growling.

“Take me to bed, Belle.”   
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle spends a little time alone.

_Two months into their marriage…_

 

Belle stared curiously at the large, shining tub newly installed in her private bathing chamber. Callum had surprised her one morning over breakfast with the idea of a new bathing system, a secret little smile on his face she didn’t quite understand. The smile remained through her questions as she pried at him for more information. He gently admonished her to wait and see. All would be revealed if she would have patience.

And then she had seen it.

It was a long, elegant slipper tub in pristine white, set close to the bathing chamber’s high window. Sunlight filtered through the lace curtains, throwing the shadow of their pattern onto the inside of the tub. The high, rolled-edge back invited a luxurious, deep soak where one’s troubles would seep out and drain with the water. The installation had taken four of the burliest men Belle had ever seen to haul it up the backstairs. Another had attached a set of elegant copper pipes running from the lower end of the bath to the floor. To her amazement, once the pipes were set and the knobs were turned, a generous stream of water flowed through a spigot, whorls of steam rising from where it hit the bottom of the tub.

She had exclaimed in surprised delight and Callum had sent her the same curious grin, sliding a hand down her back and pressing a kiss to her temple as he muttered something about paperwork in his office to complete. She barely heard him leave the room, filled with a childish excitement to try out her gift. She would thank him properly later, after she had a chance to try it out.

She rang for her maid and the two of them arranged her normal bathing accouterments prettily on a small side table moved to sit next to the tub. She had already washed for the day but what harm was there in indulging a little? She had no pressing appointments, merely a small stack of correspondence that could wait for her. Her hair was up in her usual day style, so there was no risk of getting it wet and needing to style it again. She would take a little time to enjoy and then get back to her usual duties.

Her maid turned the knobs, setting the temperature to Belle’s liking before returning to the bedroom and helping her to undress as the tub filled. Once Belle was down to her underthings, her maid stepped away, stopping the taps and slipping out as Belle removed the rest of her clothing. She folded her lingerie neatly, setting it to the side before donning a cream and lilac silk dressing gown.

Her attention was captured by a flash in the standing mirror, her sleeve catching a sunbeam and drawing her eyes to her reflection. The beam slid across her shoulder and down her chest as she moved towards herself, the sunlight warming her skin through the fabric. She closed her eyes, a blissful smile curving her lips, a little hum of enjoyment rising in her throat.

Opening her eyes, she ran her gaze over her reflection and the exposed bit of her pale skin at the open vee of the dressing gown. A peculiar curiosity heated her mind and she bit her lower lip in contemplation.

Glancing over her shoulder first to be sure her door was closed, she untied the belt, letting the bit of silk slip through her fingers and to the floor. She clutched the gown closed for a moment, closing her eyes and taking a deep, fortifying breath before uncurling her fingers. She let the gown fall from her shoulders and slither along her curves before falling into a delicate heap at her feet.

The cool air of her bedchamber brushed her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. She felt her nipples harden from the slight chill and a shiver chased through her. She let out her breath, opening her eyes and beginning to take in the sight of her nude form reflected back at her, half in sun and half in shadow.

She brought her hands up to her shoulders, running gentle fingers across the wings of her collarbone and up the soft skin of her neck. She bit her lip as she let her fingers slide down to her breasts, mapping their shape and sliding her thumbs across her hardened nipples, the dusky rose peaks tightening under her gentle ministrations. She was fascinated and wondered if Callum felt the same when he looked at her.

She ran her hands down her waist, enjoying the soft skin there before caressing her belly. Did Callum enjoy his part of her, too? The supple, subtle curve of her?  She pressed her hands low on her abdomen, a small, wistful smile curving her lips as she imagined a larger swell. _Perhaps someday_.

Her eyes fell to the dark curls at the apex of her thighs and her breathing increased with her excitement. Callum had given her the words for all of these places months ago and their explorations of each other had revealed still more to her, but a first-hand discovery of herself was altogether different.

She slid a hand into her curls, surprised at their silkiness. The hair was thicker than on her head, possessing a peculiar sensuality all its own. She slid her curious fingers lower, finding the plump flesh of her labia. She gasped a little, smiling as she pressed and played and learned herself better. Every part she caressed was so very soft and she delighted in each new discovery. A finger slipped between her folds and she gasped at the wetness she felt. The same wetness when she and Callum would play in bed.

But Callum wasn’t there with her. She had thought of him, but not enough to drive herself mad. _She_ had done this to herself. A blush stole across her cheeks, the pink complementing her pale skin as she caught her embarrassed gaze in the mirror. Was it wrong to desire oneself? To bring oneself to arousal, to this special wetness? It felt lovely. Warm and slippery and she knew how it brought her and her husband such pleasure. How could that be wrong?

She slid her finger upwards, catching the tip of her clitoris, and sucked in a quick breath at the jolt of sensation it sent through her. She pulled her hand away, staring at it in wonder as her mind knit connections together. Callum’s touch did the same thing to her, caused those aching shocks that scattered her thoughts and stole her breath. She never realized she could affect herself the same way.

Wetness glistened on her finger, created by the simple pleasure of exploring herself. Her body was hers, as was her pleasure. Callum had taught her that from the beginning. So, then, why feel embarrassed? Why not explore and see where she could take herself?  
  
She curled her fingers into her palm, glancing through the bathing room door to the still-steaming water in the tub. An idea took form in her mind, making her heart thump and her breathing quicken and she hurried back to the bath chamber.

Belle inhaled the steam rising from the water, the swirls fragrant with the rose-and-honey oil she often used on her skin, and she smiled. Her maid was ever-thoughtful. Bracing her hands on the side for balance, she slipped one foot into the water, hissing in pleasure. She sank down slowly, relishing the heat as it climbed her body and turned the air around her hazy with vapor. Settling against the high back with a contented sigh, she swirled her hands in the water for a few moments, getting used to the sensation of enveloping heat. Before too long, her sly, naughty idea came trickling back and her hands began to wander from the water back to her body. She closed her eyes, letting them do what they would. A distant rattle met her ears but she ignored it, too intent on her play.

Gentle touches at her chest slid to her breasts, her hands cupping and squeezing the small mounds. She sighed, moving her fingers to pinch and roll her nipples the way Callum would, whimpering. She squeezed a bit too hard in her enthusiasm and yelped lightly, the light sting shooting a bolt of heat down between her legs. The pleasure in that small bit of pain surprised her and she squeezed hard again, hoping for the same response. A second sting-and-jolt combination made her moan, her channel throbbing in response and she released a breast in favor of sliding a hand between her legs, using her fingers to part her folds and trace herself the way Callum did.

Thoughts of him drove an instinct through to her fingers and she pressed against herself firmly, her head rocking back against the tub on a shout of pleasure as she squeezed her nipple in time with the rougher press against her labia.

A gently-cleared throat had her eyes flying open on a gasp and she jerked her head upright in fright, her arms automatically shooting up to cover her breasts. A rush of relief followed the fright as she saw the figure of her husband filling the door to her bathing chamber, his hands gripping either side of the doorjamb. She opened her mouth to scold him for scaring her when she noticed the intense, heated look in his eyes and the whiteness of his knuckles as he gripped the wood of the doorjamb.

She gulped. He had seen her exploring herself, hadn’t he? She couldn’t tell from the distance between them how he felt about it but he was certainly affected. She lowered herself deeper into the water, watching him in embarrassed silence.

“Why did you stop, dearest?”

Her eyes widened in shock. Did he…?

“I was thoroughly enjoying the view.”

_He did._

Callum licked his lips, running his gaze over her and she blushed to her hairline.

“May I continue to watch, Belle?”

His intense gaze shifted, a pleading entering them and she found the bravery to sit back up until the water barely covered her breasts. She nodded, biting her lip on a giddy little smile. She raised her hands back to her breasts and cupped them, leaning back and closing her eyes. She squeezed and kneaded her flesh, tweaking her nipples before pinching them hard. She whimpered at the now-familiar jolt between her thighs and didn’t hesitate to slide a hand down once more to play in her folds. Her fingers grazed her clitoris and she moaned, squirming and sloshing the water.

“Yes, Belle. Keep touching yourself. You’re so beautiful in your pleasure.”

His sensual growl made her channel clench and she slipped a finger down and inside herself, shifting to get the best angle, trying to find that spot inside that drove her mad. She raised her knees, spreading them as wide as she could and slid a second finger inside herself.

“Good girl, Belle. God above, I love to watch you. Keep going, darling. Please don’t stop.”

His voice did unholy things to her and she keened, pressing the heel of her hand against her mons, trying to reach all the most sensitive parts of herself at once. She let out a frustrated huff when the pleasure she sought eluded her. She released her breast, sliding her second hand between her legs greedily and moaning in relief when her pleasure doubled.

“Touch your clitoris, Belle. Touch that heavenly little pearl, swirl your fingers around it.”

She did as he directed, finding a rhythm that made her pant and moan. Her back arched off the tub as she worked herself, finding the spot inside that she loved and pressing against it in counterpoint to her swirls on her clitoris.

“Yes, darling. Moan for me. Show me how good that feels.”

The pleasure built higher and higher within her, coalescing and threatening to overwhelm her.

“Are you close, Belle? Are you going to come?”

She nodded frantically. “C-Callum—”

“Come for me, dearest. Let me see you shatter. Let me spread you on the bed and lap up every drop of you, every single drop of your sweet nectar.”

A stuttering moan erupted from her throat as her cunt began to spasm around her fingers. Her hips jerked upward against her hands, her loud, broken yells coming in time with the deep, blissful pulses, filling the chamber and ricocheting off the walls.

She collapsed back, water sloshing over the side of the tub. She panted, slowing the movement of her hands as she came down, delicious aftershocks chasing through her and making her whimper even as she caught her breath. She cracked open her eyes and saw Callum slowly unbuttoning his vest, his coat having been discarded somewhere unseen. He smiled at her, the curve tender and loving, and walked towards the tub.

“Would you like more, darling, or would you prefer to sleep now?” He stopped at the side, running the backs of his fingers across her cheek gently.

_More._ More meant him, meant his cock, deep inside her, stroking and filling her to the brim. She was pleasantly sleepy from the water and her exertions but the thought of him covering her, caring for her in the most intimate of ways, licking her as he wanted before plundering her body, sent a thrill down her spine and she gave him a dazed little smile.

“More, please.”

His tender smile turned into a fiendish grin and he slid his arms right into the tub and under her to hoist her out. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, cradling her to his chest, sluices of water soaking his fine clothing and dripping onto the tile floor.   
  
“Callum!”

“It’s just water, dearest.”

He walked back into her bedchamber and deposited her on the bed, tugging her towards the edge and spreading her legs. He lowered himself down, kneeling, and pressed a firm, open-mouth kiss to her folds without preamble. She arched upwards with a shriek, wrapping her legs around his shoulders and losing herself to the pleasure of his wicked, clever mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bent the timing of the technology a little for the sake of the smut but I doubt you'll mind ;)
> 
> (Sorry this was was so short!)


End file.
